Growing Tough
by HannyOdair
Summary: Johanna Mason never wanted to be reaped, but she knew she could win. The Games were not her first battle. They would not be her last. Read the story of Jo's growing up years and beyond.


Jo fidgeted, struggling to make up her mind. She wanted to stay and prove to everyone that she could learn. They all thought she was stupid. She knew they did.

She fought the urge to rub the bruises on her arms and shoulders. The ones on her back and buttocks ached where they pressed against the bench.

"Johanna Mason, stay still," the teacher snapped.

Jo bristled. Why did everyone assume she was doing everything wrong for the wrong reasons? Why didn't anyone realize how hard she tried to do the right thing?

She glanced at the clock hanging above the chalkboard. Nine thirty. Mom would be waking up any time. She could imagine Aspen climbing under their bed, dragging Willow with her and hoping Mom wouldn't remember them.

Jo gritted her teeth, met the teacher's eyes and kicked her desk.

The teacher glared. It wouldn't take long to wear through her paper thin patience. She was looking for an excuse to kick Jo out.

Jo blinked back tears. She was eight. Too old to cry. Willow and Aspen still cried, but they were only one and two years old. Still babies. She kicked her desk again, harder this time. The clunk of her boot against wood silenced the entire classroom.

The teacher stalked toward her. Jo wanted to cringe, but instead she glared back at the woman. Teachers didn't know anything anyway. Nothing important. They never even wondered why she wore long-sleeved shirts to school when it was eighty degrees. Stupid teachers.

The woman grabbed her arm, clamping down on fresh bruises from the night before. Jo covered a whimper of pain by kicking the teacher's shin. "Leggo!"

"Why you impudent!" she walloped Jo's bottom, finding more bruises.

Jo kicked her again, squirming to get free. Too late to try to stay now. She needed to get home anyway. And she needed to get out before she couldn't hold back the tears.

The teacher hit her a few more times, trying to force her into submission. Jo screamed. She knew everyone would assume it was anger instead of pain. When she bit the teacher's hand, the woman finally let go.

Jo raced for the door, knowing no one would follow her.

Outside she slunk around to the back of the school, hiding under the tree branches that hung over the roof. Leaning against the wall, she let the tears flow. Her body throbbed from Mama's beating the night before, and her arm ached from the teacher's grip.

She needed to learn to hold back the tears always. Then she wouldn't need to escape so fast. It didn't take long to stop the tears now. She needed to get home before Mom woke up.

Maybe her hangover wouldn't be so bad today. Then she'd be in a better mood and wouldn't be waiting for one of them to slip up. Jo didn't bother hoping too hard, though. She ducked out from beneath the protective tree branches and started running for home, wishing for longer legs.

She tried to remember everything she should do. Check Willows diaper. That should come first. Mom didn't like it if the girls smelled bad. Jo wrinkled her nose. Mama should smell herself after a night of drinking. Mama didn't hit over the way she smelled though, so Jo didn't really care.

Was she doing everything right? Maybe if she learned to read better she could find a book about taking care of babies. But if she took the time to do that, she wouldn't be taking care of the girls. She couldn't risk leaving them alone with Mama. Or alone altogether if Mama decided to go out.

Jo dodged into the woods, pressing herself behind a tree as a peacekeeper came down the road. She didn't need one of them knocking her around too. She scowled, forcing herself to feel anger instead of fear.

Once the peacekeeper passed, she started running again, trying to make her legs go faster than before.

A few minutes later she reached their little house. She eased the door open, lifting the knob to her chin to keep the leather hinges from creaking.

Mamma wasn't in the main living area and the door to her bedroom was closed. A good sign. The only other room was the bedroom Jo shared with Willow and Aspen. She tiptoed to the open door and peeked inside. No sign of the girls. Jo laid down on the floor to look under the bed. Sure enough, Aspen sat with her arms wrapped around Willow. She smiled when she saw Jo.

"Good girl," Jo praised in a whisper.

"I did like you said and hid before she woke up," Aspen said in her too-loud whisper.

"Good girl." Jo could feel grit under her hands. That probably wasn't good. She tried to remember the school lesson about germs. Hadn't the teacher said something about dirt making people sick? Jo had been distracted by an empty stomach that day. She remembered that part. Mama had come home drunk and found Jo's little store of food laid aside to last through the week. She'd tried to persuade her to leave it alone and been backhanded across the room for her efforts.

Jo scowled at the memory. Someday she'd grow up and then Mom wouldn't be so keen on beating her up. She'd pay her back.

"Are you mad?" Aspen whispered.

Jo snapped back to the present. "Not at you." She held her hand out. "You want to come out from under there?"

"What if Mama wakes up?"

"If she's angry I'll distract her so you can hide."

She didn't want another beating, but her sisters shouldn't have to hide under the bed all day. Besides, Mama would probably knock her around for getting kicked of school again anyway.

"Do you have food, Jo? I'm hungry."

Food. Jo's own stomach knotted with hunger. She'd skipped dinner last night. There hadn't been enough money to buy baby food for Aspen as well as enough food for her and Willow.

"I'm sorry. I'll go try to find something in the woods once Mama leaves."

"I'm hungry," Aspen repeated.

"I know." Jo mentally kicked herself the same way she'd kicked the teacher. She should have gone hunting for wild edibles after Mom passed out the night before. The wet nurse that took care of them for awhile after Willow was born managed to keep everything straight, and she'd told Jo what she needed to do. Why couldn't she remember it all?

And speaking of remembering, what was she supposed to be doing? Sweeping? No. That needed to be done, but something else need to come first. Oh, right. Willow's diaper.

Jo reached under the bed and pulled Willow out. She grunted when she picked the baby up. She was strong, but Willow was growing fast. Lifting her onto the chest height bed took all the muscles Jo could muster.

She pulled out the little bag of diapers and opened it. Only one more clean one. Should she wash the diapers before or after searching for food? The wet nurse had been very stern when she said how important it was for the baby's diaper to stay dry. It would give her sores if she sat in a dirty one.

When would she start using the bathroom on her own anyway? Jo vaguely remembered hearing about teaching a baby how to use the privy, but she couldn't remember the directions on how to do that or how old the baby should be. Jo remembered being proud of not needing diapers anymore. Papa had fussed over her and told her what a big girl she was.

She scowled again. Fine lot of good all Papa's fussing did. Where was he now when she needed him?

She heard movement in the other room and panicked. The diaper pin jabbed Willow and the baby wailed. Jo clamped a hand over her mouth. Willow tried to jerk away and Jo tighter her grip.

"Jo!" Aspen tugged at her shirt. "You're hurting her."

"Mama will be angry if she hears her crying."

"But you're hurting her."

It was all her fault to begin with. She should have been more careful with the pin. She relaxed her grip on Willow's mouth, willing the one year old to stay quiet.

Willow stared at her, eyes wide.

"I'm sorry," Jo whispered. Was she old enough to understand sorry?

Jo turned her attention back to the diaper. With the pin undone, the fabric had come loose. The diaper contents now spilled over the blanket.

Jo used a word Mama used when she was drunk and mad. One of the words she yelled at Jo while she hit her.

She used edges of the dirty diaper to scoop up the mess on the bed, then hunted for a clean fabric scrap to clean Willow's bottom. She couldn't find one so she gave up and used a soiled one.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again. "I'm sorry I can't do anything right."

She fastened the diaper, and pulled Aspens dress down only to find the hem soiled by the earlier spill. A quick look in the clothing chest showed no clean clothes. How had she forgotten to do the laundry?

Jo looked up to find her mother leaning against the doorframe, squinting in the dim light.

"Smells like a pigsty in here."

Not, good morning. Not, how are you. Not even, why aren't you at school. No question about how the little girls were. No apology for the beating the night before.

"Go away."

"Don't talk to me like that."

Jo scowled until she noticed Aspen. The two year old stood paralyzed in the corner of the room, staring past Jo. Jo glanced in the same direction and remembered she'd left Willow on the bed. Aspen couldn't get her to hide under the bed and she wouldn't go alone.

Jo blinked back tears of frustration. She didn't have time to deal with Mama. She had dozens of diapers clean, clothes to wash, cleaning to do, and food to find. She should probably check and make sure the pin hadn't scratched Willow too badly. And all she really wanted to do was crawl back in bed and sleep.

Mama was right. It did stink. And it was her fault. No. Her hands curled into fists. It was Mama's fault. Mama was supposed to do all of this. And if she did Jo could be at school right now, learning to read and proving to the teachers and other students that she wasn't stupid.

Maybe she was stupid. She had to be to think she could take care of Willow and Aspen.

Willow sat up, crying.

"Shut her up," Mama growled. "Before I shut her up myself."

Jo jumped to her feet, ignoring the aches that stabbed through the bruises on her back. She managed to get Willow down without grunting. Mama didn't like it when she grunted. She said it made her sound like a weakling.

Aspen scuttled over to her as she hugged Willow, desperately shushing the baby. Aspen hid behind her, peaking out at their mother.

"What're you hiding for?" Mama demanded.

Aspen stared, eyes wide.

Mama stepped forward.

Jo put the baby down and stepped forward to meet her mother.

"Leave them alone!" She drew herself up in defiance, her head reaching the bottom of her mother's rib cage. She tipped her head back to glare at her mother.

Mama cursed at her and Jo snapped. She took a step backward, then exploded forward, ramming her head into her mother's stomach. It caught the woman by surprise.

Jo watched in surprise as she stumbled back and tripped. Her head cracked against the doorframe and she slumped to the floor.

Jo dropped to her knees. Was she dead? Had she killed her? She hadn't meant to kill her.

No. Mama's chest rose and fell slightly beneath her thin dress. Jo stared at her. Part of her wanted to scream and kick her mother while she could. The other part wanted to put her head on Mama's chest and cry and tell her she was sorry.

"Jo?"

Aspen stood behind her, clutching Willow's wrist in one hands and a fistful of Jo's shirt in the other.

Jo glanced down at her mother for a second, then turned and hoisted Willow onto her hip. The bruises on her side protested at the pressure, but she ignored them.

"Come on. You can help me find something to eat."

They'd get in the way. Aspen would get distracted and toddle off, and she'd have to stop and rest because she couldn't carry Willow for long. But she couldn't leave them here.

She hoped no one would see them. Her clothes and Willow's both stunk from the diaper accident, and one look at Aspens face set her off trying to remember when she'd last remembered to give her a bath.

Someday, Jo promised herself, she'd be able to handle everything. She learn until she could do everything right without help from anyone. That would be best. She'd take care of her sisters. She'd be someone they could trust. And she wouldn't make the mistake of trusting other people again.

If she couldn't trust her own parents, she wasn't going to keep hoping.

She left the door open behind them as she left, unable to drag it shut with only one hand. She wished she was leaving forever.


End file.
